


Stepping Forward

by rabbitprint



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, daylight saving time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-08
Updated: 2007-09-08
Packaged: 2019-05-06 21:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14656890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbitprint/pseuds/rabbitprint
Summary: Old LJ KH short, prompt request by gibbous: ‘seasons, Luxord and Lexaeus.’ Skipping forward and falling back on the clock for seasonal changes takes on a different meaning when you can control time itself.





	Stepping Forward

At first glance, seasons were a manifestation of plants -- not earth. Grass sprouted, and then released seed. Pollen danced on the air. Leaves fell, trees withered, and then the earth slept again for another turn of months, all until the first bulbs began to stir once more.

But even plants were controlled by another force: the planet took its orbit and rotation appropriately, and it was the amount of sun and heat triggered the cycle of life out of hibernation. Without those factors, no plant could be forced out of its shell. 

Trees were not the masters of the earth, but a symptom, and this was why Lexaeus never asked Marluxia for help despite how barren the City remained.

Marluxia's pet gardens were artificially tended, of course; the master of flora demonstrated no troubles when it came to calling a fruit to ripen on the tree. But Marluxia's plants only survived as long as they had XI's attention on them, shriveling when his interest wandered to other gardens, and Lexaeus did not want to settle for a hollow victory over nature.

It made for two kinds of gardens in the Castle: those which were stuffed with life on the cusp of rotting, and that which were locked forever in an iceless winter.

Try as he might, Lexaeus was unable to find a means to break the standoff. 

His vines were thin and dried. His trees were studded with tight, hard buds that refused to open themselves -- as if they knew that to do so would expose the fragile contents to Darkness, to Nothingness, inevitably withering beneath a world with no sun. 

He had almost entirely resigned himself to a lack of success when he stepped into one of his most remote gardens, and found it in full bloom.

His first thought was of Marluxia.

Yet the trees bore no stamp of forced growth, no emptiness in their trunks from nutrition extracted at speed. The bushes did not bulge with unnaturally clumped leaves. When a stray breeze slipped through from the City, it traced across grass that was still debating how thick it should flourish, the shoots pale green from recent birth.

"How did you do that?" he whispered.

Luxord stepped into view from around one of the trees, but Lexaeus was already keenly aware of the man's presence, having measured him by the weight of Luxord's boots on the soil.

The gambler did not apologize. He lifted his fingers towards a sullen clump of shrubs and the darkened leaves stretched back, unfolding at intervals, beautifully imperfect.

"Everything wants a chance to move forward, Lexaeus," he explained serenely. "You only have to let it know that it can. Here," he added, stooping to pluck one of the smaller, easily-overlooked blooms from the lowest branch of the tree beside him. 

Lexaeus realized he was holding his breath against the scent of berries and leaves, of tobacco smoke on the gambler's gloves.

"Everything's waiting on the inside, Lexaeus." Luxord turned; deft fingers tucked the flower in the zipper of Lexaeus's jacket. His crooked smile was hypnotic. "You just remind it that it's all right to move ahead, mm? That's time for you. Just when you think it's holding you back, you end up discovering that you've been the one dragging your heels."

Lexaeus finally stirred to reply, torn between looking at the leaves, at the trees, at the grasses that were slowly taking shape across the crumbled ground -- but by then, Luxord was already gone.


End file.
